


Not bad for a Slytherin

by Ciajka



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciajka/pseuds/Ciajka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the diary of John Watson</p><p>John, from the House of Gryffindor, meets Sherlock, from the House of Slytherin. Let the adventure and the mystery begin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not bad for a Slytherin

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Non male per essere un Serpeverde](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/13704) by Ciajka. 



> This fic is settling in the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry of Hogwarts.  
> I have to thank DagTillDeath to help me to translate it into English.  
> Hope you like it!

-From the diary of John Watson

Today was a strange day.   
Definitely strange.   
Who would have imagined that I have broken more rules on this day than in all the five years I pass here at Hogwarts?   
It all started this morning, during Transfiguration.

I was later than usual, so I decided to sit in the last row before the teacher arrived and began the lesson. However, the only empty seat was next to a Slytherin student. We Gryffindors are not frowned upon by that mob, so I was thinking of whether or not I should choose another spot, when the teacher entered in the classroom.   
I was the only one still standing, so he sent me a dirty look from across the room and I was ‘kindly invited’ to sit down somewhere as soon as possible.  
I had no choice.  
As I sat, the Slytherin raised his ice eyes from the book and looked me over from top to bottom.   
I didn’t feel extremely comfortable under his gaze, but it lasted only a moment before he moved his cold eyes back to his tome. He seeming to completely forget my presence.   
“My God.” I thought, “Disturbing! He can rather be next to You Know Who, to conquer the world!”  
Soon, however, I left these thoughts to concentrate on the lesson for the rest of the hour.

I was placing my things inside my bag, in no particularly hurry, when the disturbing individual, without taking his eyes from his book, asked me in a deep, detached voice: "Would you like to do a resurrection spell?"  
My mouth spoke without consulting my brain:"Wow, that would be fantast ...” but then I added, changing immediately my enthusiasm: "I mean … that should be interesting, but why do you ask that?"   
"I would like to try the resurrection spell and I need a helper."   
I replied with an annoyed tone: "And why should I? Can’t you choose someone in your own House?"  
"The rest of my House is composed of wimps. Idiots who cannot even distinguish a troll from a stone wall.”   
I stifled a laugh. Well, I was of the same opinion and hearing those words spoken from a Slytherin’s mouth was rather surreal.   
"Don’t laugh, I speak from despair. Some of them have potential, but they spend their time gossiping, lounging and playing jokes with other students. The rest is as smart as the encrusted bottom of a cauldron. "   
"I agree!" I chuckled. "But I still don’t understand why are you asking me." I added more seriously.  
He raised his eyes to heaven, visibly annoyed.   
"I need an assistant and, since you seem trustworthy, I asked. You have every right to refuse.”  
I was looking at him dumbfounded for a few seconds, was he kidding? "We don’t even know each other."   
"Oh, right. My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."   
"John Watson."   
"Yes, yes. I know." he said in a bored tone.  
"How do you know ... ah... you read my name on the cover of my book ... Now I know your name, but who tells me that I can trust you?"  
"As I said before, you have every right to refuse. If you want, I'll see you at half past three in the well of the courtyard. During the Herbology lesson, you'll consider whether or not to accept."  
"Wait, wait, wait... how did you know I have Herbology now?"   
"You have a pair of gardening gloves that protrude from the front pocket of your bag and I know that the next Herbology lesson for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw starts in ten minutes,"   
The boy looked at me, amused to seeing my estranged expression.   
"Amazed for so little..." he chuckled, "I recommend the punctuality." He added, before leaving me to my thoughts.

For all the two hours of Herbology I did nothing but think about that strange conversation.   
The closer it came to half past three, the more I became convinced that he wanted to make fun of me.   
“Resurrection spell?  
I hadn’t even asked who (or what) he wanted to resurrect. What if he want to kill and then revive me? Was that why he needed a helper? He cannot exactly kill himself and then do the spell!  
I have to refuse. In fact, I should probably tell this to some teachers, so they could take some measures. But... he hadn’t seemed like a bad person at all.”

During History of Magic lesson, obviously I had discovered the resurrection spell in the spell books. It had a rather complicated process, and it needed some potion ingredients that are incredibly difficult to find, especially in the school.  
Desperately I thought:”The best thing to do is not meet him.”

"I see that you were on time," he said, when he found me waiting for him at the well in the courtyard.   
I have no idea why I was here.   
All I know is that I was burning with curiosity. If what he said was true, where did he collect the ingredients? How would he prepare the potion? And above all, who was the "sacrificial victim"?   
"You look tense.” he remarked flatly.  
I exposed my doubts, adding it was a crazy thing, and I was here only to tell him that I would not have participated in that idiocy .   
"I know where to find the ingredients," he said, "we just have to collect them. We will prepare the solution in the potions classroom, of course. I'm a Slytherin and I come in as and when I want. Moreover, today there are no lessons in the afternoon, because it's Saturday. The victim will not be you, don’t worry, but an owl we're going to take to the owlery immediately after we finish the potion.. "  
"We will prepare? We’re going to take?"   
"Sure. You don't need to repeat what I said."  
"But ... "I began.   
"Your presence is fundamental to prepare the potion in time! We have to divide the tasks, because is impossible to do alone."   
"Why divide the process?"  
"To have less chance to be discovered."   
"But didn’t you say that being a Slytherin .. "   
"Yes, it's true. In fact I'm sure I don’t risk to get a suspension, if the Potions professor finds me, since he’s from my House. But I'd rather this will not happen." he pronounced the last sentence with a macabre tone.   
“It's not sure I will help you."   
"You seemed excited about it."  
Indeed, the idea of making a difficult spell electrified me.   
"Just help me with the potion, then I arrange the rest," he added after a while.

Needless to say, I accepted.   
I don’t know how he managed to convince me, I just know that I was to follow his sure-footed figure through the labyrinthine corridors of the dungeon, until we arrived in front of a closed door with a massive padlock.   
"Alohomora," murmured the Slytherin.  
The lock snapped without problems, allowing us to cross the threshold.   
"Where are we?" I asked softly.   
"In the closet where we can found the ingredients for the potion."   
He briskly walked to the shelves, looking at the name plates of different substances, contained in ampoules of different size and shape.  
"But you were allowed to get in here?"   
"We have to use girilacco skin, I think it's here... Here it is. Can you please get the swamp pixie wings, they should be on the shelf in the back. "   
"I've been completely ignored."   
"No, it's just that it seems useless to respond to such a question. Nobody will notice the missing ingredients. "   
"If someone finds us, we’ll lose 50 points apiece!"   
"It will not happen… Pixie. Wings. Please."   
I went to the shelf, snorting something like that: "Unbearable. A true Slytherin."

The Potions classroom was empty, cold and inhospitable.   
" You prepare the purple salt, bringing to a boil the unicorn blood with the eyes of fly finely chopped. I will prepare the solution of pixie wings and girilacco skin. When I'll mix the ingredients well, you're probably already managed to create the salt to be joined to it."  
I started to work and after less than an hour the solution and the salt were prepared.   
"Well. Now I add it... slowly…“ he whispered, holding the flask containing the pouring salt and put it into a phial with the rest of the potion. Then he closed the phial and waved it. The color began to turn from a rotten green to a beautiful crimson red, with golden reflections.   
"Perfect!" he exclaimed, "We did a great job! Now, let’s go to the owlery!"   
"You said that my job would be finished here!"  
"Well, to capture the owl and make the spell it’s necessary two people .. "he looked at me intently, "But no problem if you leave me alone.."   
Needless to say, I thought it seemed inhuman abandon him to his fate. In addition, I was curious to see if the experiment would succeed: working so closely for an hour for nothing?   
No, I was going to go through to the end.   
"We're going to owlery." I said, making my partner smile.  
"Well, John, let's go!"  
He walked towards the exit of the room, while I cleared the workbench with a primary spell of cleaning.

The weather threatened rain when we walked into the owlery. The wind blew and the roof creaked alarmingly, creating a creepy atmosphere, but Sherlock did not seem to care at all. "We need to stun an owl," he ascertained.   
"That one is perfect." he pointed to a fat old owl that was resting on a beam, a few feet above our heads.   
I raised my wand and shouted "Stupefy" at my goal, which, struck in the chest by the invoice, fell at our feet, unconscious.   
"Nice sight." complimented Sherlock. I thanked him, but I pointed out that the owl was still alive.   
"This is poison." He showed me a tiny glass vial with a thick black liquid inside.  
"I borrowed it from the Potions teacher,” he said anticipating my question.   
"I don’t doubt it..." I murmured.   
"A single drop is fatal," he continued, pouring one into the bird’s wide open beak.   
Immediately the plumage became opaque and its body stiffened: he was definitely dead.   
Currently, I don’t know how to describe the immense guilt that I was feeling at that moment: I had just helped a person, who I didn’t even know, to kill a living being. And if the potion did not work? I would never have forgiven him.  
"Help me to pour the potion in the beak of the owl, John... while I recite the spell."   
I obeyed, trying not to panic.  
If at that time someone had walked into the owlery, he would have seen a pale man tensely pouring a reddish liquid into a stiff owl beak with a dropper, while another guy recited the word "resorgo" calmly and deeply, all framed by a hundred agitated birds and the sinister creaking of the wooden beams, caused by the wind.   
I tried not to think about it, so I concentrated myself on my job: I must not waste even a drop, otherwise the potion would not have had an effect.   
Suddenly the bird's leg moved imperceptibly, giving birth to hope in my chest. Sherlock watched, but its eyes remained impassive.   
The minutes passed and the movement of the legs became more and more evident, until it opened its eyes and spread its wings, ready to fly away.   
I turned to Sherlock, who meanwhile had stopped his chanting and looked at me straight in my eye. We stood still for a few seconds, then we started laughing like complete idiots.  
"The experiment worked, John!"   
"Great, it was literally fantastic!"   
"Not bad for a Gryffindor!’"   
"Gryffindors are the best! What'd you expect?" I said in a joking way.   
"I expected to see you run away, trembling from head to foot!!" he replied in the same tone   
"Oh sure! In truth, I was expecting that you would kill me like a ruthless Eater."   
"Be careful, I might do it!" he giggled, giving me a wink.   
I don’t know how much time we spent to joke, but then I had the curiosity to look out the window: it was started a veritable deluge.   
"With a weather like that, it’s dangerous to run outside. It would be better to wait until the weather calm down." Sherlock pointed out.   
I agreed, but we immediately changed our mind as soon as the water began to seep through the roof, with the risk of getting wet us.   
So we decided to run out, hoping to get to the castle safely.

We ran to the front door like desperate people.   
Needless to say, we were both soaked from head to toe and monstrously out of breath. It was very, very fun.  
We said goodbye after filling the entrance hall with uncontrollable laughter: he went to the dungeon, while I climbed the stairs to reach the portrait of the Fat Lady.

At dinner I could not find him. The Slytherin table had a single empty seat: his own.

Now I'm here, under my blankets, describing this crazy day.   
As I wrote before, I’ve never violated so many rules in one day.   
Summary:   
\- stealing potions ingredients from the closet - 50 points   
-potions classroom used without permission: -20 points   
-Preparing a dangerous potion without the permission of the teacher: -30 points   
-Killing a post owl: - 50 points   
-Experimenting with the above owl without authorization: -50 points   
Total: - 200 points.

Great.  
But I would not be true to myself if I said that I was not amused.   
And even that Sherlock is... um... singular. Unbearable in some ways, but all in all not bad for a Slytherin.


End file.
